


found some peace inside yourself

by incogneat_oh



Series: That One Hug Meme [19]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batdad, Gen, Prompt Fill, hug meme, usual warnings for Jason's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 07:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh
Summary: And the silence stretches a little longer this time, because Bruce is hesitant to break it. He knows Jason well enough not to push too hard, to give him a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He’d obviously come here on a whim, but Bruce still can’t imagine why.One of those Bruce + Jason fics, you know. For the prompt 'bear hugs'.





	found some peace inside yourself

By the time Jason’s on the elevator, Bruce has had more than sufficient warning of his arrival. But he’s no closer to figuring out  _why_ Jason’s here _._ He hasn’t come to see Bruce at Wayne Enterprises before.

Feeling… blindsided, along with that strange hope-fear feeling Jason always inspires deep in his gut, Bruce puts on his very best poker face, and opens his office door right as Jason steps off the elevator.

He and Jason regard each other in silence. Stillness.

Alfred would  _kill_ him if he could see this. 

And then Jason takes a few dogged, determined steps forward, closing the gap between them. 

It’s only early afternoon, but he looks exhausted, dark-purple shadows under his eyes, a five-o’clock shadow and his usual messy hair. It’s no wonder security had stopped him.

He’s wearing jeans with boots and a zip-up hooded sweatshirt in a blue-grey that softens him, somehow. Makes him look younger. There’s also a t-shirt with some sort of a slogan on it; he’s sure his other kids would get the reference, but it’s well over Bruce’s head.

Belatedly, realising the silence has stretched too long, Bruce says, “Hello, Jason.”

“Hi.” And Jason stops short of approaching him, standing outside the office door. He sticks his hands in his pockets and casts his eye over the view of the city outside, to avoid Bruce’s gaze. 

It’s a nice view– nicer, when it isn’t an overcast, miserable day like today. But still, Jason spends a long minute just watching, eyes picking over every detail. 

At any other time, Bruce might look at it as casualness. A deliberate distance, coolness, between them. But this time, watching Jason’s sneaker scuff absently at the expensive carpet, the bob of his Adam’s apple, he realises it’s nervousness. Or something close to it.

Bruce shifts his weight, and his stupid, brand new, sharp-enough-to-cut pointed business shoes make a  _squuurrk_ sound. 

Jason looks up sharply, startled. Almost like he’d forgotten Bruce was there.

And then, fists visibly clenching in his pockets, glancing over his shoulder, Jason says, “… Can we talk?”

“Of course,” Bruce says, stepping aside. Ushering Jason into his office. And, after a moment, “If you punch me, my security team is never going to take me seriously again.”

At that, Jason looks up sharply again. Catches the ghost of a smile on Bruce’s face. And he definitely doesn’t laugh, not even a little, but something in his expression changes minutely. To something easier. 

Then, uncomfortably, as though it’s only just occurred to him, “I’m not… interrupting. Am I?” 

Ahh, it’s easy to see the Alfred in this boy.

“Not at all.” 

And the silence stretches a little longer this time, because Bruce is hesitant to break it. He knows Jason well enough not to push too hard, to give him a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He’d obviously come here on a whim, but Bruce still can’t imagine why. 

Eventually, shaking himself into action, Bruce says, “Why don’t you take a seat? I can get you a drink if you like– I’ve got water and sodas up here, but I can buzz down for coffee or something–”

Jason shakes his head once and Bruce falls silent again. Unsure. He’s on-edge, now, beginning to think something might be very wrong.

And that’s when Jason, eyes determinedly focussed on a hideous painting over Bruce’s bar, says haltingly, “My memory’s been pretty fucked up the last couple years. I mean– whether it was the crowbar or the brain damage or the Lazarus Pit, there’s a lot of  _stuff_  that’s like… muddled up, or just, you know, buried really deep. Or is gone altogether.”

Bruce is breathless, winded, and says nothing. He’d had an idea some of Jason’s memory might be damaged, but to hear it. So matter-of-fact. It’s not the same.

He closes his eyes. “And just,” his voice is low. Like talking to himself. “ _Jesus._ I must’ve been there a dozen times, getting patched up, and I  _never thought to look over the damn door_.”

“Jay.”

Here, Jason meets his eye. “ _You finished it_ ,” he says, urgently. Earnestly. And there’s something… wonderment? In his expression, that Bruce doesn’t know how to react to. 

“Jason, I don’t know what you–”

“The Catherine Todd clinic,” Jason says, voice cracking.

“I– well, yes, of course,” Bruce says. “Of course I finished it.”

They’d had the plans completed, the funding mostly organised, back when Jason was. Back when he was Robin still. And they’d gone on a drive one morning, Jason skipping a school-day, to scout out a location. For the new free medical clinic, for one of Gotham’s poorest areas. They’d had burgers and ice-cream, and Jason had stained a new shirt. Alfred hadn’t minded.

It had been Jason’s project more than Bruce’s. He was so passionate about it, checking and double checking numbers and plans, asking when they could start to build. Making suggestions and changes.

And then. Then there was Ethiopia, and nothing was the same ever again. 

Bruce had given a brief speech when he’d officially opened the clinic doors, a few months after. Bruce can remember barrelling through the hoards of press to get straight back into the car, and have Alfred drive him home, but it’s hazy. He gets a pain in his chest even remembering that day.

And Jason’s still watching him openly, with that same amazed-look he used to give, back when he was Robin. Back when he still believed Batman could do anything. 

Then, finally breaking eye-contact, he says, “She was the greatest lady I ever met, you know?” and scrubs at his dry eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. 

“I know,” Bruce agrees, soft. And he steps forward, then, before he can think better of it, engulfing Jason in a bear-hug. 

He takes a long minute just to squeeze, to breathe in the feeling, and memorise it. They’re the same height now, and Jason’s much broader than he ever was, but to Bruce he feels exactly the same. He even ducks his head down so he can bury his face in Bruce’s chest, wriggling to free his arms to return the hug. 

And Bruce, one hand automatically smoothing Jason’s hair, the same gesture he has been doing for as long as he’s known Jason, says again, “I know,” and then, “I’m sorry security detained you,” because he really should’ve said it before.

“ _I_  would have detained me,” says Jason, arms still tight around him. “I look like a delinquent.” And Bruce's  _huff_ of laughter ruffles his hair.

And then, much quieter, murmured into the folds of his suit, “ _Thank you_.”

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [ tumblr.](http://incogneat-oh.tumblr.com/post/81682397186/bear-hugs-with-bruce-and-jason-please-because-i)


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